Chapter 2: The Door Slams Twice
Trembling, I opened my eyes to see Matthew Sterling backlit in the doorway.
He looked older, sharper, the lines around his mouth deeper. His presence filled the room.
I used to be obsessed with that look. Now, I barely recognized him.
I wondered if he even recognized me, or if I was just another ghost in his house.
His thin lips parted, his voice like a knife dipped in ice:
“Why are you sleeping here?”
His voice was cold.
I froze, worried there might be something valuable in this room and I’d get Mrs. Hargrove in trouble. Heart pounding.
I jumped up, apologizing as I started to tidy the bed:
“Sorry, I didn’t know. I’ll go stay with Mrs. Hargrove tonight.”
Didn’t want Mrs. Hargrove in trouble.
I moved quickly, gathering my things. Make myself small.
The air went still. Could feel his eyes on me.
Matthew’s face darkened. He strode to the bed, the scent of pine and whiskey wafting over. He grabbed my chin, forcing me to look up, his fingers pressing hard on the fresh welts from the branch. He sneered:
“Cassidy Parker, who are you putting on this pitiful act for? You think I’ll feel sorry for you?”
His grip hurt.
I stared at him, trying not to flinch.
Standing under the dim light, I lowered my head.
My voice caught in my throat, wishing I could disappear.
Matthew finally stormed out, slamming the door so hard it shook.
The echo of the door rattled through my bones. I sat, numb.
It all felt like a dream. Next morning, up before dawn.
The world was quiet, the only sound the distant call of a mourning dove. Packing in silence.
I packed my things and put them in the corner. Not my home anymore.
I folded each piece of clothing carefully, tucking them into the bag with practiced hands. Didn’t want to leave a trace.













